


Paediatric Ward 2: Neonatal ICU

by Hobbitrocious



Series: The Ward (A Medical Story Assortment) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ABDL, Adult baby, Age Play, Breastfeeding, Caretaking, Consensual Non-Consent, Diapers, Doctor/Patient, Drugged Sherlock, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Infantilism, Light Masochism, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Navel Fetish, Navel Torture, Nurse Mary, Omorashi, Orgasm, Other, PWP, Regression, Regressive Roleplay, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8505046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbitrocious/pseuds/Hobbitrocious
Summary: John and Sherlock roleplaying ABDL simultaneously with an elaborate medical scene: Baby Sherlock is found abandoned in a cold alleyway in winter. It's up to Doctor Watson and his assistant to save Little Sherlock from succumbing to hypothermia and keep a close eye on him as he recovers.This is a story about ADULTS (and only adults) roleplaying consensually.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> If intense-ish medical roleplaying scenes and other fetishes combined with Adult Baby roleplay sounds too twisted for you, I prefer that you err on the side of caution and just NOT read the following fic. This is meant to be both hurt/comfort-y and kinky, especially if h/c is your kink.
> 
> I'm not all that fond of actually writing through character-whumping blow by blow to set up my h/c, so this time around Sherlock's helplessness is simply roleplay, possibly utilising 'subspace' a bit more than his Little headspace.
> 
> As with PW1, this fic kind of has one foot in the Bruschetta Universe (yeah, I even recycled phrases and procedures almost verbatim from "Unsystematic", so call me a stagnant writer,) and the other in BBC Sherlock 'verse. I'm tentatively tagging this with BBC, and I apologise if the characters still read too much like modern Ritchieverse AU or plain ol' too OOC.
> 
> My personal headcanon is that sedation would have been Sherlock's idea, as a way to aid immersion in the scene, but feel free to read it as forced sedation if that's what gets your mental hamsters running.

Sherlock woke from sedation to find himself swaddled tightly in a large blanket.

His body jerked out on instinct when he came to, but the soft cloth around him and residual drug-inhibited muscle response kept him from really moving.

Very groggy, he struggled not to slip right under again. He could not muster the strength yet to open his eyes, and only perceived the general brightness of the room, the chilly air around his face smelling faintly of antiseptic and lavender, and soft voices barely on the edge of his hearing.

"It's a good thing he was found in time. Newborns wouldn't survive the night, out in this weather."

"... warmed up at all? ..."

One voice was so even and familiar that Sherlock's mind barely registered hearing it at first. The other sounded higher, ever so slightly more nasal, and had a no-nonsense edge to it that drew Sherlock's focus incrementally closer to full consciousness.

"... Core temperature... put him in the incubator yet..."

Sherlock managed to turn his head just a little toward the sound of those voices. The friction on the blanket released the scent of baby shampoo, evidently used on him earlier. Sherlock realised his hair still felt a touch damp, and an all-over clammy sensation suggested he'd been recently bathed. He shivered inside the swaddling.

The blanket became heavier, warmer over him, and then, after the sound of something rigid and possibly plastic settling into place overhead, the voices were muffled.

Sherlock drifted back into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a heart, vote for Gary Johnson.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts to get a bit freaky. Read all tags above and, if need be, turn back now.

Dr. Watson double- and triple-checked the room's thermostat as he and Mary finished setting things up and changed clothes. They'd both had to roll up their sleeves in order to bathe a fully unconscious detective in the adjacent bathroom; now, Mary donned teal-green scrubs and John a white coat.

Sherlock hadn't shivered at all since John had tucked a second blanket over him and set the incubating cover atop his cot. It would all have to come off again in a few minutes, once Sherlock's treatment began, but for the moment John wanted him to be toasty warm and comfortable.

Machinery, monitors, and instrument trays were ready and in place near the cot. Though the room had softly coloured, nursery-appropriate wallpaper and some more homey furnishings, there was no mistaking its primary use as a medical facility. Even the cot betrayed a colder, more clinical functionality with its wheeled metal base, and six-inch-high plexiglass rim all around the sides to keep the precious patient safely inside.

As soon as all was ready, the cover was lifted off the cot, and unwelcome hands jarred Sherlock from his hazy sleep as his extra blanket was taken from him and the swaddling blanket beneath wrested open.

John smiled down at him sympathetically when Sherlock tried to open his eyes just a crack. They slipped shut again and Sherlock gave an unhappy moan, another shiver wracking through him. They'd left him wearing nothing but his nappy and a hospital ID band around one skinny ankle.

Mary helped John wheel the cot closer to the adjustable lamp standing among the other equipment. Turning the powerful lamp on offered another source of heat for the chilly man-infant lying helplessly on the thin hospital mattress.

Still drowsy, Sherlock only managed to watch some of the goings-on from beneath his heavy eyelids. He was awake enough now to feel anything done to him, but not with-it enough to protest as Dr. Watson's hand went straight for his diaper first thing, feeling around and crinkling the material to check if Sherlock had urinated. He hadn't.

Her hands suddenly on his face to steady both her motions and his head, Mary startled Sherlock with cold eyedrops quickly dropped into his eyes without warning. He flinched in her grip, panicky, but it was over in a second. She was done before Sherlock knew what hit him, and just like that left him blinking and wincing, distressed until the pools of extra moisture blinding him were absorbed.

Unbeknownst to the bewildered baby, the eyedrops weren't anything special; just standard lubricating drops to help combat the dry winter air the building's heating system was recirculating.

"Nail beds slightly blue," John observed, picking up one of Sherlock's clammy hands and gently rubbing his thumb over the pale fingers. "Let's get him on oxygen."

Unexpectedly coming at her patient's head again, Mary efficiently secured an oxygen mask over Sherlock's nose and mouth despite the baby's initial fussing. She turned his head each way to fix the straps so that he could not dislodge it.

After a few breaths through the mask, Sherlock felt better and quieted down. He opened his eyes, easier this time - and his gaze looked a little sharper, his caretakers noted.

"Mmm?" Sherlock grunted weakly at John when they made eye contact. Sherlock tried to reach up for him, but didn't succeed in lifting his arm any higher than the side of the cot. His fingers caught onto it, desperately at first, then opened and closed around the edge repeatedly in curious, if lethargic, exploration.

Ignoring him, John and Mary set to work on his body. Dallying meant valuable minutes wasted, and it was in the best interest of Sherlock's health to get him back inside the incubator as soon as possible.

The cot was engulfed in a fresh flurry of activity.

"First thing's first," John said, beckoning to Mary and pointing out how they would begin, "we need to clamp off his umbilical cord."

Dr. Watson fingered Sherlock's navel methodically, probing to see what he'd be working with.

"It wasn't done properly when he was delivered," the doctor concluded. He asked Mary to hand him one of the instruments lying out of Sherlock's sightline.

Mary's finger was inside Sherlock's navel next, scrubbing disinfectant deep inside. It was cold and wet, but he couldn't smell the sharp alcohol through the oxygen mask.

A transparent, lubricated cylinder with one open end was pressed to Sherlock's tummy. It was just large enough to encircle his navel. John pressed it firmly at first to create an airtight seal, and then the doctor was able to slowly draw the plunger back.

Suction increased within the cylinder, pulling the skin of Sherlock's bellybutton outward until his navel appeared to be turned completely inside out. John paid close attention to the graduated markings as Sherlock's newly formed outie passed them and filled the cylinder.

Sherlock was breathing heavily by the time John stretched his navel out to the target two centimetre mark. The cylinder's grip on it was so airtight that not even Sherlock's heaving belly could dislodge it.

He gasped as John tugged the cylinder itself taut to make room for Mary to go in with another instrument and clamp an aluminium ring around the base of what was now one very distended bellybutton.

John injected air and a bit more lubricant into the cylinder through a valve at the top, easing the pressure so that he could, again slowly, press the plunger back down until Sherlock's navel popped free. When it did, it remained firmly clamped as a very pronounced outie.

It reddened and became even more sensitive as the skin relaxed, insofar as it could, standing out from the surface of Sherlock's belly like a tight, bulged, little tube of flesh.

Mary clipped a pulse oximeter to Sherlock's finger, then checked his pupil responsiveness with a penlight while John immediately donned his stethoscope and listened to Sherlock's heart and lungs. The ausculator wasn't all that cold, having been in John's coat pocket for a while, but felt strange on Sherlock's skin. When John pressed it close to Sherlock's umbilical cord, the baby could feel the tension on his umbilical knot trapped outside its normal resting place by the clamp ring.

Sherlock bumped a clumsy hand into his oxygen mask, apparently attempting to suck his thumb for comfort. Mary caught his wrist and deterred him before he had the chance to frustrate himself carrying on that futility.

John continued to listen until Sherlock's respiratory rate re-approached normal. When he finished, he attached a neutral lead around Sherlock's right ankle while Mary adhered ECG leads to Sherlock's chest and started up that particular monitor. Green spikes pulsed across its screen at a steady clip.

Next, the doctor approached with some sort of probe in the form of a short, thin rod on the end of a bundle of wires. He carefully slid the probe into Sherlock's protruding bellybutton, the tight depth of which held the rod in place all on its own.

Sherlock moaned behind the air mask. _It felt so peculiar going in_.

This probe too was connected to an individual monitoring device.

John said, "He should be alright with a cannula now."

The doctor rubbed Sherlock's arm reassuringly now that the hardest procedure was over.

Gently, Mary removed Sherlock's oxygen mask and replaced it with a nasal cannula.

Before they replaced the top on the incubator, John taped a small core temperature sensor to the skin of Sherlock's belly.

All of the wires and tubes trailing off of Sherlock's body were carefully aligned with small access ports as the incubator cover was placed over him.

John averted the lamp's head so the room dimmed just a smidge, but left it switched on for its warmth.

Sherlock made a curious little coo and tried to look around, but reflections in the plexiglass distorted his view of what was outside.

Before walking away, John briefly slipped his hand into an access port to gently brush his fingertips against Sherlock's.

Unable to roll onto his front for all the devices attached to him and the narrowness of the cot, Sherlock relaxed as best he could into the rhythms of the machinery surrounding him and dropped into a light doze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment if you liked!


	3. Chapter 3

Bright light woke him. A rush of fresh air as the incubator opened, and then warm fingers on his wrist took his pulse.

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the searing light, and yawned wide.

The first thing he saw was John in his white coat, smiling softly at him.

"Hey there, little boy," John murmured lovingly and rubbed Sherlock's chest to help wake him up fully. "You're stabilised now, so you're getting a short feeding. How does that sound, hm? Good job sleeping for so long."

Not expecting the little baby to answer, John turned to Mary and asked her to prepare a glucose drip.

"This is going to have to come out now..." John said to himself as he delicately worked the umbilical wire out of Sherlock's puffed out navel. With that done, he carefully snipped the umbilical cord ring off while Mary held Sherlock still.

Sherlock gasped as feeling returned to the spot. His bellybutton relaxed into a slightly stretched, swollen, and flushed version of its pre-clamped appearance. The swelling would eventually go down, and the stretching was only temporary. For now, the nerve endings there felt very abused and over-sensitive.

John palpated around the navel, pressing deep to find where its innermost knot met the abdominal wall. The doctor decided he could feel no undue swelling or internal abrasions that would preclude them from administering the next procedure.

Mary rolled the prepared IV pole close to the cot.

"Would you like to do it, or shall I?" she asked John.

With a wicked glint in his eye, John shrugged and offered, "You can give it a go if you want."

Sherlock's breathing sped up and his brow furrowed anxiously. Whatever they had planned for him, he didn't trust Mary nearly as much as he trusted Daddy.

John noticed right away and quickly reach down to rub Sherlock's body reassuringly.

He said, "Hm, Baby seems a bit agitated. Maybe I should do it after all."

In response, Sherlock whined pleadingly.

Daddy bent down and kissed Sherlock on the forehead. "Okay, Daddy will do it. Be a good boy now and stay still for me while I do this."

It didn't sink into Sherlock's infantile mind what 'this' was until Mary was holding his thorax still again and Daddy's gloved hands were poised over his bellybutton with a sharp-looking needle on the end of an intravenous line pointing straight at the sensitive hole.

Doctor Daddy was going to poke him! Was it going to hurt? Pointy things usually hurted. _No, no want hurt! Ouchies no!_

It was a sharp sort of burn as the needle sank in, bypassing the protective barrier of Sherlock's skin and entering the closest vein to the surface with perfect aim. It penetrated what felt like the exact centre of Sherlock's bellybutton knot.

Sherlock keened, feeling the pain all the more acutely thanks to the effects of the recently removed clamp. Mary diligently held him still, pressing him into the mattress when he tried to arc his back.

"Shh, shh. I know, little one. It's just a short feeding; a few minutes and then it'll all be over." John kept an eye on the line to be sure the glucose drip was functioning properly.

The needle fully seated, it had almost completely disappeared into the depths of Sherlock's fleshy innie. The IV line trailed out of his gut like a long, synthetic umbilical cord, feeding the glucose serum directly into his intestines via the adjacent vein.

John slid his hand up the tubing and did a double-check on its connection to the IV bag. The movement of his steady, sure surgeon's hand fingering the line looked so intimate, Sherlock unconsciously nibbled his lip and let out a breathy, desperate noise. John tutted down to him in response.

Mary stepped out of view, and a few moments later the quiet strains of Brahms' Lullaby filled the ward room.

Embarrassed at how the ache inside his bellybutton was slowly turning into pleasure, Sherlock began to suck his thumb as a distraction.

He and Daddy locked eyes. Daddy smiled one of his most wonderful happy smiles, the kind where the corners of his eyes got all crinkly, and rested his palm flat on Sherlock's lower belly just above his nappy.

Mary returned and interceded by forcibly freeing Sherlock's thumb from his mouth and coaxing him to take a freshly sterilised, standard hospital issue dummy instead.

In an effort to help accustom Sherlock's baby mind to hearing grownup speech, she chirped at the tiny detective, "Look at you, finally starting to suckle! You might be ready for a proper feeding from a wet nurse soon."

She tickled under his chin, making him gurgle around his dummy.

"He is doing very well, isn't he," John added. "I really think he'll pull through."

After couple slow, soothing minutes of Brahms, without warning John removed the IV from Sherlock's tummy.

Overcome with sensation, Sherlock groaned. It felt like an electric charge had entered him through his navel and shot down into his diaper. He was squirming, gasping, and before he knew it he had lost control and was peeing into his nappy.

"Good to have that out, right?" Daddy commented as he rolled up the IV tubing and cleared away the pole it hung from, seeming oblivious to what Sherlock's poor, overwrought body was going through.

 _Stinging_. Mary had snuck up to the other side of the cot and jammed her finger into Sherlock's bellybutton. She had a disinfectant pad wrapped around her fingertip and applied pressure while she counted off thirty seconds in her head. When she pulled it out, Sherlock's extremities were shaking minutely from exertion.

While Mary removed the ECG leads and temperature monitor, leaving the nasal cannula in, John came back and carefully ripped open Sherlock's very wet, very sticky diaper.

Cold, wet wipes swiped up and down Sherlock's genitals until every trace of his own fluids was gone. John's fingers wiggled a wipe deep into Sherlock's butt crack and then another over his balls, and soon Sherlock was clean. The soiled nappy went into a bin, and then Daddy was wrapping Sherlock's lower parts in a fresh, dry, very cosy, new nappy.

The dummy bobbing in his mouth, Sherlock now looked quite sleepy again.

John went to wash his hands.

Sherlock winced as Mary wiped another stinging antiseptic square inside his navel to clean up the last traces of bleeding from the IV site.

After John dried his hands, he fished a box of plasters out of a supply cabinet and selected a charming Winnie the Pooh themed one to stick over Sherlock's sore bellybutton.

"Aw. Put two on and make a li'l X-marks-the-spot," Mary said. "It'll be cute."

John chuckled, "All right," and did so, crossing one plaster over the other.

After another listen with the stethoscope while Sherlock's heart calmed down, John rubbed a bit of sweet-smelling oil into his hands and slowly massaged it into Sherlock's skin. He rubbed all around Sherlock's belly, then chest, over each arm in turn, and down each leg. Baby Sherlock hummed appreciatively.

Too soon, it was over. With all the troublesome wires gone, John and Mary were able to re-swaddle Sherlock.

Daddy patted Sherlock's tummy and told him, "Get some rest now, baby."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA/Disclaimer: Commercial baby oil and other products containing the petroleum-based ingredient "mineral oil" are no longer recommended for direct use on skin, even for adults. Non-toxic alternatives can be home-crafted by adding small amounts of essential oil (such as lavender) to organic food-quality oils like olive, safflower, or coconut. Do not use peppermint oil on actual babies, as the tingling it creates can mimic a burning sensation if too strongly concentrated.
> 
> If you haven't run away screaming yet, please comment. <3


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock next woke to gentle, warm fingers massaging over his eyebrows and temples. He was beginning to feel quite spoiled, consistently waking up to Daddy's touch. He had no sense of how long he'd been unconscious this time; he could have dozed for a number of hours, or mere seconds.  
  
"There you are," John whispered when he saw Sherlock looking up at him. The doctor removed Sherlock's nasal cannula, the final piece of medical equipment that had been attached to Sherlock's body, and kissed the sleepy boy on the forehead.  
  
Sherlock moaned happily around his dummy. It turned into a mew of surprise when the doctor turned Sherlock's head gently and slid the plastic-sheathed probe of a tympanic thermometer into Sherlock's ear.  
  
Petting Sherlock's hair to keep him calm, John held the thermometer in place until the LCD screen on the handle flashed. He let go of Sherlock and read the temperature display. The tiny detective's body appeared to finally be maintaining a normal, constant temperature all on its own.  
  
John tugged the swaddling open and unwrapped Sherlock so that his nappy was accessible. He felt around the crinkly plastic, which was warm but heavily wet. It was sodden enough that part of it looked yellow even from the outside.  
  
Sherlock had been out long enough to completely fill the nappy in his sleep. He wasn't sure how he felt about not being able to remember releasing his bladder at all, but then Daddy took his mind off that with a very thorough changing. Sherlock cringed at the chill at first, but Daddy's hands were nice and warm; and someone had even pre-warmed the wipes.  
  
With the fresh nappy snug around Sherlock's hips, John unfolded a long garment and began to dress the baby from the bottom up, slipping him into a fleecy babygrow. The extra-warm clothing choice was almost certainly a sign that today the baby was going to be removed from his incubator for the first time. Sherlock grunted in curiosity, his tongue making a clumsy appearance and accidentally popping his dummy free. Daddy watched it drop with an adoring _aww_ , and rescued the dummy to help Sherlock to latch onto again.   
  
Sherlock's hands were guided into cotton mittens, and a lilac knitted cap was snugged over his head. Daddy gave an extra couple of well-placed tugs to the edge of the cap to make sure the tops of the baby's ears would be kept warm.  
  
Together, Daddy and Mary lifted Sherlock out of the cot and helped him settle with his legs around John's waist. John held him for a minute, allowing Mary time to situate herself in an oversized rocking recliner in the corner.  
  
John carried Sherlock over to her and tenderly laid him in her arms, then carefully took Sherlock's dummy away.   
  
Reaching after it, Sherlock was about to start fussing when Mary took hold of his chin and turned him to face her chest. The nipple of her right breast grazed the corner of his lips. She held him there, trying to coax him to latch on and drink.  
  
"Uhn?" Sherlock grunted in confusion. His dummy had disappeared. He tried looking back to Daddy, but Daddy wasn't holding it anymore.   
  
At the same time, Sherlock instinctively opened his mouth in response to Mary's touch. She quickly turned his head back toward her and tried again to help him latch on.  
  
"Come on," she whispered impatiently, "I know you can do it. You were suckling before. It's just like your dummy, sweetheart, come on..."  
  
"Here," John interrupted her, "just a moment..."  
  
John took Sherlock's wrists and laid the baby's hands on his tummy, then reached down in front of Mary and pulled up the corner of the large blanket beneath Sherlock. He draped it over the baby and tucked it under Sherlock's opposite side, then pulled up the bottom corner to tuck around Sherlock's legs, and secured it all by bringing the corner on Sherlock's other side over and tucking that firmly around him too.   
  
The top of the blanket got adjusted around Sherlock's head, completing his cosy cocoon. He stretched out inside it, feeling comforted by the tension in the blanket containing him. He felt... very safe.  
  
"Well, he calmed right down, didn't he?" Mary remarked. She shifted the grown baby in her arms, turning him toward her chest and letting her teat poke at his mouth.  
  
Once she finally had his full attention, Sherlock searched around a bit, momentarily disoriented by his own rooting reflex, and found Mary's nipple.   
  
"Gooood baby," Mary praised.   
  
She stroked his shoulder through the blanket and fleecy sleeper while he snuffled and swallowed, eventually successfully starting to drink from her.  
  
John fetched a clean, flannel burp cloth from a nearby linen basket and brought it to Mary, who tucked it over her shoulder to use later.  
  
The milk was warm, thin, and slightly sweet. Pleased and contented, Sherlock cooed around Mary's breast as he sucked down his meal.  
   
"Yes, I know," she humoured his attempt at communication, "it's very tasty, isn't it. Just what you needed, too."  
  
Sherlock squirmed happily inside his blanket and continued feeding.  
  
  
"Hm, let's see if we can do the other side without turning you around," Mary said when it came time to switch breasts. They managed to make it work comfortably, and some time later Mary felt Sherlock had finished all there was.  
  
She carefully nudged her pinkie finger inside the corner of his mouth to break the seal he had on her breast. He unlatched looking pleased and sated, dribbles of milk all around his lips.  
  
Chuckling at the baby's deliriously happy face, Mary wiped his messy mouth clean with the burp cloth. She and John sat Sherlock up in her lap, resting on her shoulder, so she could rub and pat his back to coax out any air that had made it down into his stomach with his greedy swallowing.  
  
He only spat up a tiny bit when she finally got a burp out of him. She quickly wiped his chin before he could drool into the swaddling blankie.  
  
John approached and petted Sherlock's forehead; "Are we all done? What a good boy."  
  
The baby blushed and squirmed again.  
  
John took the soiled burp cloth from Mary, who slid Sherlock into a different position so he could see out across the nursery.  
  
Sherlock peacefully watched John putter around the room, until Mary caught the little one blowing bubbles with his spit. She tutted and swiped at his mouth with a tissue, which he stuck his tongue out to taste and decided he did not like one bit.  
  
"Ughnnnnn!" Sherlock whined and arched his back.  
  
Mary calmed him down again and cuddled him for a time, making sure to give him occasional brief, reassuring massages through the swaddling. Safe physical contact, extremely important for early infant development, was an integral part of Sherlock's care right now; without it, his ability to trust and accept care from others later in life might become compromised.  
  
She made sure to carefully pull his hand out of the swaddling at one point, to check his fingers. They were a healthy, warm pink, and the baby bundled in her arms felt appropriately warm overall. His condition was definitely improving.  
  
Later, it was time to re-check Sherlock's vitals. He let out a great, big yawn as he was manoeuvred in Mary's lap.  
  
"Could we turn him this way," John was directing, "yeah, just like that."  
  
Daddy and Mary both stuck their hands inside the blanket, pulling the folds away so that Daddy was able to drag the pyjama zipper down enough to bare Sherlock's chest.  
  
Daddy listened to Sherlock's heart, holding one frail wrist to feel the pulse echo through it.  
  
"Alright," John said, taking off the stethoscope, "let's give him another minute to digest, then I think we'll do his work-up. We can put him back in the cot whenever you're ready."  
  
"I'm good to go now, if you are," Mary replied, already tucking the blanket into the position they'd need it in to move him.  
  
They carried a pliant Sherlock back to the cot, where they stripped him down to his nappy once more. John massaged Sherlock's slightly swollen tummy, provoking some settling sounds from the baby's awakening gut. When the gurgles and grumbles passed, John took another listen with the stethoscope, starting with Sherlock's lungs before moving the bell down to eavesdrop on his intestines. Everything sounded perfectly normal.  
  
Sherlock's temperature was taken one more time, and his body checked over for anything unusual. Daddy ran his hands over Sherlock's skin, palpating in certain places. Mary turned Sherlock over and Daddy did the same across Sherlock's back, finishing up with a quick listen to Sherlock's lungs from behind. John made sure to percuss; the baby felt the pattern of taps vibrate through his back.  
  
They laid Sherlock flat again so that his reflexes could be tested.  
  
John grazed the corner of Sherlock's mouth gently with a knuckle. Sherlock's head turned toward it and his mouth opened, seeking. John reached over to do the same at the other side of Sherlock's mouth, and Sherlock's head jerked in that direction.  
  
"Good..." John noted, then stroked his index finger against one of Sherlock's palms.   
  
Sherlock's fingers curled around John's in a weak but consistent fist. John received the same reaction from Sherlock's other hand as well.  
  
Sherlock's toes had a decently strong grip around John's finger when the doctor brushed downward along the soles of his feet. After checking the plantar reflex, John went to the worktop sink to wash and dry his hands, came back to the cot, and snapped a sterile glove onto his left hand.  
  
Putting something that looked like ointment on the tip of his finger and allowing Sherlock to suckle it off, John dosed the baby with a mild sedative.  
  
When it began to take effect Sherlock fussed at first, fighting the strange feeling of unnatural sleepiness after he had slept so much already. His movements became even more uncoordinated, and his whimpers desperate.  
  
"You're a little handful, aren't you," remarked Mary as she and John lifted a weakly squirming Sherlock onto a nearby trough-style paediatric scale.  
  
They had weighed him the previous afternoon, and compared his weight today with yesterday's vitals to make sure the number had not dropped.  
  
By the time John had it written on his chart, Sherlock was docile and struggling to keep his eyes open.  
  
After that, it was time to dress the baby to be transported home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to this instalment, I think. It may be a long time coming, as usual, since I'm still facing the tech issues, and now a lot of family stuff and long-term stress-related health issues to boot. 
> 
> Comments make me smile! Even if I can't read/reply to them right away. Thanks for sticking with me through the long hiatuses!


End file.
